Memories
by Brigadier-Erin-Lightning
Summary: Post Season One: OneShot: They say a phoenix dies and is reborn again from the ashes of its prior existence. As Layla awaits the end, she reflects on all the triumphs and failures of her life.


_**"Memories"  
A songfiction by Erin Lightning**_

**_(This was a songfiction for the song "Memory" from CATS: The Musical, however removed it for containing the lyrics. Therefore, the lyrics have been removed. I apologize, Gomensai...However, I did leave the last two lines of lyrics at the bottom for closure purposes.)_**

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A small child, the best at her gymnastics class, smiled down from the uneven bars at a father, who, too busy discussing the price of the class with the instructor, and the chance of his daughter's fame, failed to see her in her glory. That same child, swinging so gaily from the trapeze her father had built in their home for her practice, called for him to see her preform a trick she had longed to preform for so long. He walked into the room, and, in all her diving beauty, the young girl lunged from the trapeze, arms spread wide...only to hear the ringing of a cellphone and see out of the corner of her eye, with a ghastly horror, her father slip quietly away...and she missed the bar. The night of her first big performance, as one of the background members in a production of "Beauty and the Beast"...her father, now not even in sight. By the time she became the star of the "Little Mermaid", her father had forgotten her entirely.

But that final performance, he was there; she was certain of it when that last rose fell to the stage before her, and his aged and graying features appeared from the crowd, smiling softly, lovingly...the praise she had so longed for, and it had come only now that it was too late. The light flickered in her mind, and there was another girl, a short, rose-haired one, with beautiful, caring eyes...the light of heaven spreading around the two of them...pure silence, pure ecstasy...and then a searing pain, and that falling feeling, falling once more, away from the light, away from the hope. Away from her dream, and into yet another reality.

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Again, she was that small child...she was Layla Hamilton, the beautiful blond with the eyes of ice and that smile that never faded in the presence of others. She was that small child, running down the shore, eyes fixed on the prize – that most beautiful, most captivating of stages that lay out there on the horizon, beckoning her...She was the child, seated beside a smiling mother, and a placated father, watching the story of Alice in Wonderland with wide, curious eyes...She was the child, holding her mothers hand in the last few moments, watching the color drain from her eyes, and, through her tears, watching the life drain from not one parent, but both. She was the girl, who, lifting a tiny sunflower in her hand, had cradled the delicate object, caressing it and brushing its soft, golden petals against her cheek...and always smiling. Always smiling, though she felt like crying within.

And now, once more, she was the young woman. She was the star who would never, could never shine again, and, broken, she lay in his arms. And she smiled.

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"The moon is smiling," her voice cracked as she spoke the words, very softly, very quietly, almost in an intimate way. Her right hand tried to raise to that great, shining silver orb, but, as if gravity compelled her to remain still, it wouldn't budge. Her vision blurred; she felt nothing, not even his warmth. His beauty evaded her; she could not see the gentle eyes, gazing down at her. She could not see the worry in that visage, for it was skewed and almost harlequin in her delirium.

"Layla! You're still alive!" the voice whispered, with its odd Russian accent, one that she knew so well.

"Yuri?" her head tried to raise, but fell aside, limp in his arms, crushed like a dove, the bloodied gash responsible flooding her being, blossoming like a crimson flower from her chest. Her breath was uneasy, her lungs pushing the last few stale draws in, and out...He pulled her to him, and his head fell to her neck, gentle kisses rubbing against pale, unfeeling skin.

"My Layla," he whispered, his voice, a tortured moan. "My golden phoenix..."

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Silence, stillness; a tear fell on her cheek, one that was not her own. Around her, the leaves rustled in the empty street, dancing across the light breeze before falling to the ground, where they would lie until they had completely vanished from this world. That one could cease to exist so easily...it frightened, and enticed Layla. Her mind whirled, switching thoughts as a channel-flipper would scan through the listings...but then it fell still. The street-light nearby flickered, but didn't go out. Like the wind, her companion's voice brushed her ear, but was incoherent to her fading conscious...Blood dripped from her bangs, blotting her vision with a maroon haze. Once more, just once more, a kiss brushed her cheek; but it felt like no more than the brush of a butterfly's wings, and was gone.

The young bird in her mind stood once more on the trapeze, grasped the bar, leapt from her perch, flung wide her arms and...the phone rang again. This time, however, in the split second of the ring, a thousand images sprang into being. She saw the great illusionary pumpkin, and the three fairy godmothers soaring up above her as she flew from the trampoline; the little pink bunny, so determined to fly with the rest of Alice's dear friends, and Yuri's form diving to give the furry creature the wings of a mighty eagle. She felt the rain, soaking her figure, and the connection of the two swords; the fall, the catch, the crowd cheering...she saw the amazing feats of the final performance, the actresses and actors dropping from the great reams of cloth, Anna and her crew flying through the air on the motorcycles, and Sora flying at her from the trapeze. And then it was over, and the great maneuver filled her mind...the pain again, and she was back to the small girl, and the moment was over. Once more, she fell.

* * *

Layla Hamilton trudged down the back streets; she didn't want anyone to see her smile, because it was not the beautiful, graceful, plastered-on smile of an actress any longer. It was that dutiful smile, that carry-on smile that was every bit as fake, but ten times as tragic. She had done well to lay all her dreams on Sora; she had realized that on this very night, after having treated herself to a performance of "Heaven". Thrice, she had nearly intervened, but the show had had all the aspects for which she so remembered Sora: the childish quality, when the princess leapt from the monkey outfit to hang in the air only for a brief instant...but then the drama, as her partner had blatantly left the stage early...(Layla had wanted to deck him, but knew to resist), and then the struggle of persistence, as Sora obviously had been forced to carry on the acrobatics all alone, even the most difficult of maneuvers. The man returned, and another girl...and the show finished just as brilliantly as anything Layla could have done. She wasn't sure of it, but she believed she had cheered louder than anyone.

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Now, walking home alone, along the back way so no one would see her, she found herself lost in question, as she had been for so many nights since she had left Kaleido Stage. The street lamps around her burned low, and the area was dark, a not-often-used road laying before her, and down the slope behind her...a road that traveled on and on, toward nowhere, but everywhere at the same time. Her plain black clothes, the dark trousers and the chemise, showed none of the flawless grace she had once had. She was no longer a star. And, with her injury, no movie producer would ever want her again. She was washed up now, but the smile still stayed.

Her eyes, turned skyward, caught that faint flicker, a million miles away. A star, a shooting star, fell suddenly from the sky, blazing...she could hear her former partner's voice: "Make a wish on a falling star, and it's sure to come true." Quick, before it disappeared forever! "I wish," Layla said, drawing her hands up close to clasp them against her heart, "I wish I could feel the happiness I once felt...I wish there were some way I could become a star, just once more." Her eyes closed; the star faded.

She never saw the car coming.

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"LAYLA!" the scream echoed for miles; a figure darted from the shadows, but could not outrun the little Mustang that sped crazily down the drive. Layla turned her eyes from the sky, opened them, and...time froze. It seemed as if every aspect of her life was moving in slow motion. Her eyes widened to see the glaring headlights, and her hand clasped at her shoulder, suddenly aware of the old wound, protecting it against a new injury...her legs were frozen to the spot. For one agonizing second, she saw the face of the man whom she had once loved, then hated, with his almost snow-colored hair and his eyes, the only ones as cold as hers; but it was the look on his face that paralyzed her, a look so full of agony and despair, of loss, of sorrow...and the car, steadily coming, steadily speeding up, as if it couldn't see her.

The street lamp flickered once more. A searing, blinding pain, and she was wrenched off the ground. Night filled her vision, and she was flying, soaring, for once glorious second, just before she connected with the earth and...

* * *

"Layla! LAYLA!" The voice grew louder, and she was shaken awake just once more. Her vision was clearer, but it was starting to go shadowy at the edges. Hardly aware of where she was, or who was with her, Layla looked about with her eyes alone, and there, on the horizon, she saw the most beautiful sight she had ever beheld; the sun's first rays stretching over the distant ocean, climbing the great tower of Kaleido Stage, which was still, even now, faintly lit with its own man-made lights. Beneath her, the sting of asphalt. Around her shoulders, a coat that was not her own.

"Layla, I called an ambulance..." Yuri whispered the words, almost frantically, and she could barely feel the cling of his slender, model's fingers around her shoulders, though she was not as numb now as she had been earlier. "Layla, they'll be here soon, just hang on, please, please hang on..."

"How..." she croaked the word, coughed, feeling the rise of blood in her mouth and trying to hold it back, "How bad is it, Yuri?"

"It's...Layla, oh god, it's..." He bit his lip and held back his own tears, and for the first time it occurred to her: she had never seen him cry before. "I'm sorry, Layla, I'm so sorry..."

"Yuri, d-don't tell Sora, okay?"

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Tears fell on her cheeks again, and she was crushed to him, but not in a painful way. "Layla, Layla, I'm so sorry, if only I...I shouldn't have been so goddamn selfish...if I hadn't pushed you, you'd be alright still...your arm..."

"It's alright," Layla whispered, and it was. She had known her fame wouldn't last forever, and though she missed it...She felt the rush in her bones, and her mind faded out, faded once more to the final maneuver, to the final act...she saw Sora, she saw herself, and the trapeze...one swing, two, three; she felt her hand connect with her dear partner's, and she saw nothing but the blinding lights around her, the stars above, the crowd below; and the smiling face across from her. "It must be heaven," her mind had thought, "This must be what heaven is. This must be it, this feeling of being so high, and never wanting to come down..."

"No, Layla," Yuri whispered, "it's not alright...you're bleeding! Goddammit, where's that ambulance?" The tears again, but Layla only smiled mournfully up at him. Her right hand twitched, wanting to move, wanting to touch him...he lifted it slowly, and held it against his face, and the limp fingers exerted their last effort to brush his cheek, caress it gently. Suddenly, she felt an aching urge to..."Strength, give me strength..." she thought, pleading...Somewhere in the background, she heard sirens.

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"Layla, they're comin-"

Her lips met his, wildly, passionately as he dropped his head low enough for her to reach. His hand, clasping hers so tightly to his face, let go her wrist, and it fell back to the ground limply, but the kiss ensued. Over the horizon, the sun began to rise. The rays stretched over the crystal waters; dolphins leapt, but Layla saw none of it; only his face, and, in the depths of her mind, Sora's face in return. She knew now that she had been blessed, and, enveloped in the kiss, her mind drifted to that one, last memory...

Layla's very first starring role...

"It's time for the climax," Yuri whispered in Cinderella's ear, and the girl turned her childish face up to him, blushing brightly. His fingers brushed her chin, drew her face up to his, and...

Everything turned white, and, for that one second, it was Yuri who hung opposite from her in the midst of the great maneuver, not Sora. The smile this time was real, real and true...

"I wonder," she thought, "I wonder if Yuri will ever know this feeling?" But she knew in her heart that he already did. That small child from her dreams smiled at her, and, as the little Layla held her hand out to the older, Layla closed her eyes and fell just one last time. A tear rolled down her cheek; her own tear, and her very last.

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"**Look  
****A new day has begun"**

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End file.
